Naked

Cool and damp earth presses against my skin, moisture seeps through my cotton shirt, an ant is crawling across my bare shin. I can hear the rain dropping rhythmically on the tin roof and sliding down the wall of glass. I can’t see the outside world and no one can see me here on this dirt floor with pot smoke lingering above my face, a joint dangling from my fingers.

I just wanted to be alone listening to the bees hum. Drown out the pounding in my chest. Cover myself in the life giving forces of the earth.

I never wanted to spend this time with you. I was never asking to hangout. I just wanted to lay on your dirt floor away from my own life. Escape my pain. Even if dillusionaly so.

I wanted to pretend for an afternoon that I was nothing more than alive.
That nothing separated me from neatly planted indigo. That I too was just a seed full of potential. I imagined removing my conciousness and placing it on a shelf outside the door.

I imagined so many things that I am only now learning to express. I said so many things that were taken the wrong way. People forgot my words were peppered with pain and sadness. That I couldn’t help but season my conversations with unending angst. I was misunderstood because I didnt know how to be understandable. I was trying to exist and I never considered people couldn’t see that.

Unlike the emperor, people saw me as clothed while I thought I was laid bare.